Show Me a Hero v 2
by peanut0565
Summary: Show Me a Hero and I'll Write you a Tragedy. - F. Scott Fitzgerald. Theory based on 2x11 'Powerless'. Who really was behind Nathan getting shot. One Shot. Complete. Re-Written


_Show Me a Hero and..._

"Good afternoon. Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Nathan Petrelli, and I was elected to Congress in the State of New York. Seems like a long time ago. I lost my position. I lost my brother. I lost my family. I'm sad to say that I lost my way. But while I was gone, I had the chance to see the world through newly-humbled eyes. Witnessed amazing things. I've seen ordinary people among us, trying their best each day to be heroes. These ordinary people... like you, like me, are capable of extraordinary things. You have no idea... how extraordinary. But there are other people, organizations, who don't want you to know the truth. I, myself, kept secrets. But last year... something incredible happened to me. And it changed my life. At first, I was afraid. But I'm... I'm not afraid anymore. I'm here to tell you the truth. I have the ability to fly." He looked around as everything fell silent, safe for flashing cameras. A quick glance over to his brother and new found partner in crime, showed him that he wasn't the only one waiting the judgement.

"Prove it!" One reporter boldly broke the silence. Nathan looked to his direction and splastered on a well rehearsed smirk. He knew that would come next. The rest of the reporters soon followed with the insisting on the show us trend.

"Okay, Just follow me outside." Nathan said calmly, heading towards the entrance to the outside realm. Both Peter and Matt fell in step with the ex-congressman as they lead the whole crowd of reporters and others outside so Nathan could show them.

He would prove to them all that he was for once telling the truth. It was such a liberating feeling to actually be out in the open with it. Before hand only ones that had known this to be true were everyone at Kirby Plaza, and his mother. He had tried to tell Heidi, but that was the reason she had left him. Maybe if she saw this press conference, she would finally understand and come back to him.

He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, the crowd stopping ten feet infront of him to give him the distance he needed, but ready to take pictures and capture on camera the possibility of seeing first hand the laws of physics thrown out the window, or simply to prove the ex-congressman had lost his mind.

Nathan bent his knees a little and tried. He closed his eyes and tried to fly.

_Nothing._

He tried again.

_Nothing._

Again.

_Nothing._

He opened his eyes and looked behind him to the expecting crowd, all eyes glued on him. He glanced over to his brother who was looking at him, silently telling him to show them all and end the lies.

He turned around and closed his eyes again, willing himself to show them. Show them all that he could take flight and make a mockery of the laws of gravity and Isaac Newton.

_Absolutely __Nothing._

He opened his eyes again to find both Matt and Peter by his side.

"It's not working, I can't fly." He said quietly with such defeat in his tone. His face fell as he stared at the ground. He had never known such humiliation.

"The Haitian's here." Peter said suddenly, looking around suspiciously. The former congressman looked up to his brothers' face.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"He can supress the abilities of the people around him. It explains why you can't fly right now." Peter said quickly, still looking around for any sign of the tall black man.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

It suprised him how fast they acted. Within the month he was in a pair of scrubs, in a new room with a doorway and no door, a window with bars on the outside, and an absurdly bright white room. All that was within the room was a metal bed frame with a rotting mattress, a somewhat fresh blue blanket, and a white pillow. There also was a television sitting ontop of a wire frame small table. The whole room was rather desolate, and if he wasn't crazy now, he surely be after a few nights in this sad room.

He knew the day they'd lock him up he'd try to escape. There was no question about it. Peter, Matt, and himself had been working out Plan B towards bringing the company down when they came for him.

It was his mother that ultimately made the final decision in to committing him into a mental institution, under the reasoning that he was no longer fit to take care of himself and be apart of society. It didn't suprise him one bit in all actuality.

With a small session with the psycharicist it was deemed that he was at least sane enough to walk the halls of the building on his own. Of course there were always orderlies and nurses buzzing about, but he hadn't given them a good reason to keep close tabs on him.

So he strolled around the building, looking as though he was just exploring the place, but the underlining motive was in all actuality to find the staircase to lead him either up to the roof. He figured they'd stop him at the doors if he tried to just simply walk out of there. Though he was given permission to roam the hallways of the fourth floor of the building, he was not permitted to leave it without a caretaker, nurse. or one of the doctors.

Finally he spotted the red exit sign that also had the symbol of stairs on it, pointing to the metal door with a small window peering in. He slowly walked passed it as the nurses seem to move about their duties. He stopped just passed it and glanced around, and when no one was looking he whipped open the door and slide in.

The stairs were clear, he smiled eagerly as he more or less sprinted up them, another two stories before he finally reached the roof. He moved towards the edge and stepped up onto the ledge.

"Hey!" He was startled, taking a step forward off the ledge. His first inclination was to fall forward like any other gravity-obiding creature.

"Shit!" The voice said, he felt two hands on his ankles as he stopped himself in midair, now looking like he was laying down on something. Before he knew it he felt his ankles being pulled as he slide in shock back to the solid roof.

Nathan flipped around onto his back as soon as he could to see the young female nurse glaring at him.

"What were you doing?!" She asked.

"I don't belong here." Nathan replied, standing up and dusting himself off.

"You didn't answer my question." She continued with concerned eyes.

"I was going home." He replied truthfully.

"Right." She said moving closer to him like he was a trapped animal in the corner.

"Let's just go back inside, I'll contact your doctor." She said calmly like she was a negiotator. It was then it dawned on him that she thought he was trying to commit suicide.

"Wait, you don't understand. I can fly." He said pulling back from her and hopping on the ledge again.

"Don't!" The nurse practically shouted. Nathan looked at her sympathetically. He couldn't make her understand how much he didn't belong here unless she saw it first hand.

"I'm going home, and You're not going to stop me." He said, He turned around and propelled himself away from the building, away from that desolate area in upstate New York.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

He was a fugitive now, a run away looney. What irritated him most was his mother was willing to go to such lengths to keep him shut up. After receiving a call from the hospital she sent Nathan too, saying he was missing. She went on a war path, getting the police in on her cause, everyone was searching for him. The one nurse that had proof that he could fly wasn't high enough in the ranks to help any, sadly. She was discredited as having a very stressful week and a tired mind that was seeing things.

He went straight to Matt and Mohinder's place, knowing Peter's apartment was unsafe for him and was most likely the first place their mother would go to in her search. They accepted him, and spared him a couch to sleep on.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

After a few ackward days, things returned to semi-normalcy. Matt had come in handy, being a detective at NYPD. Though he wasn't an active member of the party set aside to hunt down the ex-congressman, that didn't stop him from catching stray thoughts about the case from those who were. Sometimes having a mind-reader on your side is extremely helpful.

Mohinder was also a not-so-small help towards bringing down the company. Though his knowledge was waning, because now the company knew he wanted them to be taken down. His information wasn't alot, but it was better then nothing.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

He needed out. He needed some fresh air. Not that he would rather be in the institution more then the apartment though. He needed a change of scenery; He hadn't left the apartment in literally a year.

Ideas for bringing down the company were few and far between. The few that they had, they either didn't have the manpower to pull it off, or the political power to. That or it was simply impossible to even think about.

He was getting migraines frequently now, due to the stress of trying to take them down, and being more or less locked up at the same time. The fact that he couldn't even see Heidi or the boys, even if she didn't want him to, was another aggravating factor that contributed to his deteriotating health.

Peter was always a sight for sore eyes. He came every other month for a short visit. It was decided that he shouldn't come all to often, to not raise much suspicion of their little headquarters. He did call nearly every week.

It wasn't enough though. He needed some fresh air. He was desperate for it and in the end he decided to risk everything they've worked for. He prepared though, by putting on a pair of black sun glasses(even though it was raining out), and a dark green baseball cap.

Unless he ran into someone who knew him initimately he would be safe. His hair had grown out to the longest it has ever been, just past his shoulders. He even pulled it back into a short pony tail. As well as the fact that he grew a rather thick beard. Similar to the one he had grown when Peter was missing after the explosion.

He felt it was a good enough disguise. Nathan pulled a black umbrella out, and stepped out onto the fire escape. He hopped over the edge and lowered himself down to the ground, still looking like he had jumped.

He smiled and took a deep breath of the moist air. Rain drops falling down around him, and the noises of the busy new yorkers passing on the main street. He took a step towards the entrance of the alley when he felt someone grab his wrist from behind him and force him to turn and go face first into the wall.

He was so stunned that he didn't even get a good look at the man before he felt a painful slap in the back of his head, his forehead connecting with the brick wall once again, and then everything went black.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

When he came to he found himself on a wire-framed bed in a not-well-litted white room. It reminded him much of the institution that he had been placed in little over a year ago. The only exceptions were this place was obviously not as bright, it had a steel bolted door keeping him in, and no windows. He would imagine this would be more of a prison cell, with a toilet built in and a cheap mirror and sink next to it.

He went to stand up, but a wave of nausea hit him and sat him down without his command. His head was pounding, and he saw spots flashing in his vision. He closed his eyes and groaned, probably a concussion.

He never should have left the apartment. He just flushed everything they had done over the last year down the toilet. He had no idea where he was. Bob Bishop then walked in, sporting his usual look.

"Mr. Petrelli." He addressed him. Nathan sighed and opened his eyes up to the elder man.

"What do you want with me? Where am I?" He asked immediatly.

"You're in a place that will keep you safe, from yourself and from everyone else." He answered. Great another institution.

"You know I can fly, that I'm not crazy." He replied bitterly.

"You know that's not the real reason you're here." Bob returned.

"The company will be brought down with or without me." Nathan fired back, closing his eyes again. The migraine was returning.

"We will see about that." Bob said then left, closing and locking the door behind him. Once he was out of earshot, he swore loudly then fell backwards onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. He pulled the pillow from his head and placed it over his face, pressing it down as he screamed into it.

He royally screwed up this time.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years.

He lost track of all concepts of time, and more or less reality. Only thing He knew for certain now was the fact that food would slide into his little room like clock work three times a day. The food was substanial to keep him living, but was far from anything that tasted even remotely good.

One particular day out of the blue the food tasted different, in a bad way. He immediatly felt sleepy, taking to his bed and falling into the unconcious realm within ten minutes of finishing the meal.

He knew it was bad instantly, when he awoke in a white room with nothing in it. He saw a large window that separated him from another smaller room. He saw Bob and Mohinder looking on the other side. Bob was stoic, Mohinder was shocked. The facial expression giving away the pure shock that he had when seeing the ex-congressmen for the first time in two and a half years.

"Mohinder..." He said quietly, standing up slowly and moving gingerly towards the window. He was a little uneasy on his feet, due to what ever drug they dosed his food with. As he made it about half way to the window he heard gears turning. He stopped, looking around curiously, what was going on?

He looked up to the mirror again to see Mohinder angerly telling Bob something, or pleading? He didn't know, but it didn't mean anything good for him. It was then he looked down at the floor, it was splitting apart. His eyes widened as the crack grew larger beneath his feet.

"What are you doing?!" He asked hesistantly. He clambered towards the window, pounding on it. He was acting like he didn't have the ability to fly, like any normal human would be.

"Bob stop this, Please!" He said as the crack was finally to big enough for him to keep standing on each edge. He pulled to the right side, away from the door, falling down to his butt as the edges grew smaller and smaller.

It was then like a sudden ephiphany, he could fly. He stood up and looked towards the bolted door then down to the dark pit that held certain doom. His eyes shifted to Bob, with a glare, the he closed them and jumped.

He was falling.

Falling.

Falling,

Falling.

He opened his eyes and found nothing but darkness and the wind whistling past his ears as he plummeted towards his doom. He couldn't fly. It was then he couldn't hold back a scream, one of frustrated fear. It was cut short as he hit the icy-cold water that lay at the bottom of the whole. It stunned him so he simply sunk into the tank, eyes closed, his brain working overtime to try and get his body to react and find air before it was too late.

I'm not going to die like this.

His eyes popped open with urgency as he clammered towards the surface. His energy was dwindling. He feared he wouldn't make it in time. Flashs of faces passing through his head. Just before he could gather any meaning from them, he blacked out, never reaching the surface on his own.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

He awoke with a gasp, pulling himself upward, but before he could sit up fully he felt a forceful hand pull him back to the bed. His breathing was labored as he looked over to see the indian geneticist at his side looking at him with concern.

"Mohinder." He hissed through the oxygen mask on his face.

"How could I have been so stupid? Of course they'd have you...have you and experiment..." He was talking more to himself there as he directed his eyes towards his computer.

"What's going on?" Nathan's voice was hoarse and sounded exhausted.

"They've infected you with a different strain of the virus." Mohinder stated quickly. It took a minute for the words to sink in, and a few more minutes to realize what that actually meant for him.

"I though we destroyed it."

"They apparently had several different strains."

"Is this one lethal?"

"Yes."

"..."

"How's Peter?"

"Not very good. He's still looking for you."

"How long has it been?"

"3 years."

"You need to rest, and conserve you're energy."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

If he thought his health was going before, it really was now, and rapidly. He could barely make it to his food and back now without a pant. His long unkept hair was falling out at a steady rate; Each time he awoke he'd find more hair on his pillow and even less on his head.

His migraine was now a constant companion, also nausea, and muscle weakness. He lost even more weight. He could barely breath without assistance. Mohinder had been trying different things on him, but nothing helped. Many of them made it worse for a short time.

His time was coming, and soon. He feared now that when he closed his eyes they wouldn't open again.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Thud. Gasp.

He cracked his eyes open just slightly. His blurred vision showed a black figure hovering over him.

"It is much worse then you said!"

"Sh, We need to get him out of here Now."

"Its' going to be alright, Nathan. Just hang in there."

He felt his frail body being picked up and off the wire framed bed that he'd become so accustom to. The arms that were holding him felt some how familar, strong and secure.

"Peter?"

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

He was back at the apartment, though it took him a week to notice it. Mohinder kept feeding him sedatives and pain killers, giving him a drug filled reality. Peter would sit on the coffee table by the couch, holding his hand. If he wasn't in on the coffee table, he was in the chair next to Nathan. He wasn't more then ten feet away from his dying brother for more then a few minutes.

"Peter? Peter? Peter!" He needed to feel his brother's strong fingers over his weak ones. He needed to tell him. Tell him his plan. The one he thought of before the experiments, the one he thought of after merely a year in that facility. He had the time to look at every possible angle, and knew this was the only way. If only he had the strength to get it out.

"I'm here Nathan, Right here."

"I need to tell you something" His speech was slow, strained, and delibrate.

"I need you to pay attention, and not interupt me."

"I will, Nathan."

"You can still time travel, Like Hiro right?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to go back to before we destroyed the virus."

"Go to Bob. Tell him about our plans to expose the company."

"What?!"

"Don't interupt. I don't have much strength, and I need you to listen."

"Okay."

"Tell him about the press conference, and how you will go there and shoot me before I reveal anything."

"Why would I shoot you?!"

"It's the only way to open the box."

"Box?"

"Pandora's box. If I'm shot, the media, the world will want to know what I was going to say."

"I don't understand."

"If they want to know, its bad for the company Peter. They will have to try and protect themselves, and thats when we can reveal it."

"That's going to start a war."

"Exactly."

"You want to start a war?!"

"I won't. There's got to be another way."

"This is the only way!"

"It can't be."

"It's human nature, Pete. Only through war will we get progress."

"This will end horribly, I can feel it."

"Can it be any better then it is now?"

"Promise me you'll do this."

"..."

"Please, promise me you will."

"Nathan..."

"Peter!"

"OKAY OKAY."

"Thank you."

"This better work."

"It will..."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Nathan passed away a few hours after the fateful discussion. Peter stayed with him until the end, then did as he was told and traveled back to the time requested to fulfill his brother's wish, praying that he was right after all.

_...I will write you a tradegy._

END


End file.
